


Let me take your burdens away

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: Let me take your burdens away [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And actually, nothing in the world, in Dean's life up until this point, ever felt so <i>right.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me take your burdens away

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during 2x11 "Playthings," with Drunk!Sam.  
> My first real Wincest fic, I've been kind of a creepy lurker for a while. But this is what I like to think really happened that night ;)

“Dean, please, you’re the only one that can do it, promise.” Sam had no idea what he was asking of his brother. He was drunk, definitely not in his right mind, and was going through some sort of internal crisis.

“Don’t ask that of me.”

“Dean. Please. You have to promise me.”

Dean just stared back at his little brother, so lost and clearly hurting inside, and only wanted to give him peace. “I promise.” Dean only said it so that Sam could go to sleep and forget all about this in the morning. There was no way he was killing his own brother. His geeky, pain-in-the-ass little brother. No. Sammy would forget all about even having this conversation as soon as the morning came. As soon as he hit the pillow.

“Thanks,” was what came out of Sam’s mouth, the look in his eyes so intense it had Dean’s gaze caught almost in a trap. Sam then inhaled long and deep and reached his arms up to cup his brother’s face in both hands. “Thank you.”

Dean didn’t know how much this meant to his little brother until that very moment. He wished he could take all of the pain his brother was feeling away, or perhaps take it as his own instead. Sammy was too young to be feeling this way. He wasn’t supposed to hate himself and fear himself the way that he did. He wished he saw himself the way Dean saw him. Especially right now, with the blue of the moon hitting his features, his hooded lids, his slightly parted lips. Yes, Dean felt Sammy’s pain as though it were his own. It rested heavy between them, and Dean could even feel it, like a physical entity, woven between his fingers where he was gently gripping the shoulder of Sam’s shirt. He wished he could do something more, but he hoped that his promise, however false it was, gave his brother enough resolve to sleep through the night.

Dean reached up to gently pry his brother’s hands from his face but Sam only pulled in, letting their foreheads slowly press against each other. They were so close Dean could feel his brother’s body heat, could smell the sweet scent of bourbon on his tongue.

“I need you, Dean. I need you.”

Apparently Sam didn’t know what he was saying. It appeared to Dean he was just giving in to the alcohol in his system, talking aimlessly. He needed to just go to sleep and forget all about this. They both did. When Dean retreated slightly, Sam drew in a breath again, looking up into Dean’s eyes once more.

“Alright, I know. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Dean spoke quietly, filling the space between them with reassuring, soothing words. At this point he held Sammy’s hands in his own and tried to coax him to lie back. “Come on, go to sleep.”

Sam made a soft little groaning noise and fussed with Dean. He didn’t want to sleep. Every time Sam was drunk he instantly reverted to being eight years old again. Dean still recalled the many nights he read Sam stories about the Arthurian legends and the noble nights of the round table. It always helped him drift off. That felt like centuries ago. Now was so different. They had been through so much.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked gently.

Sam looked up at him, head rolling back sloppily. “I need you…”

“I know, Sammy… I’m right here.” Dean reached a hand up to his helpless brother’s face and rested it on his cheek. His brother’s skin was hot under his palm, and the line of his hair just behind his ear was damp with sweat.

With one hand, Sam reached up and touched Dean’s cheek and then it fell down a bit, towards Dean’s neck and trickled there for a few seconds before ghosting over his collarbone. Sam swallowed hard, his eyes focusing on Dean’s chest, or trying to, through heavy lids. And then his fingertips trailed directly over Dean’s heart and stayed there, feeling the soft fabric and the warmth underneath it.

Dean wondered if Sam could also feel the quickening of his pulse. He didn’t stop him. Only uttered out a small “Sammy…” in protest. Or perhaps to try to get him to snap out of this drunken daze he seemed to be in. It didn’t work. Sam’s soft hand only trickled lower, and just as his fingertips grazed over Dean’s belly button Dean pulled away, dropping down to crouch in front of Sam and look him in the face. Sam stared back at Dean through glossy eyes. He seemed close to tears. But his features also looked so delicate in this dim blue light, his skin smooth and balmy, parted lips wet and glistening.

Dean had a lump in his throat, a similar feeling to being close to tears, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t quite sure why it was there. But it was almost preventing him from speaking. Almost.

“Sammy, go to sleep. You’re tired.”

Sam didn’t say anything. Again, he brought a hand up and this time it landed in the crevice of Dean’s neck and shoulder. He tugged gently and brought their faces together, so close that their short, hot breaths mingled. Sam’s wet lips ghosted over Dean’s, so faint, so tender, barely touching. But it was enough for sparks to surge throughout Dean’s sober body, realizing the wrong in this situation finally. _No. I can’t kiss Sammy. I can’t._ But the truth was, something else within him – a much stronger force – was overpowering the moral one because this just felt so _right,_ so _natural._ He hadn’t even realized anything was remotely off until he felt his dick start to swell in his jeans, pressing up against the zipper slightly, uncomfortably.

Still their faces moved together, tiredly, touching but not touching, almost as though they were both feeling this conflict in the exact same way, only Dean was in his right mind, unburdened by alcohol, and Sammy definitely was not.

And finally, slowly, Sam’s lips touched Dean’s, and they were hot and wet and so, so soft. Dean let him. God damnit, every moral instinct left in him wanted to push his little brother away, to tell him to go to sleep again, to tell him that this was wrong, but he just couldn’t. And even though he’d never admit this out loud, a part of him wanted this, had been wanting this, for a very, _very_ long time.

Sam’s tongue was sweet as it pushed its way into Dean’s mouth, exploring every crevice, every contour. Every quiet little moan Sam made in Dean’s mouth shot straight to his groin, and though he could feel his dick filling more and more, he tried to push that thought out. There was no way anything like _that_ was happening tonight. Though, Dean couldn’t resist moving his hands finally, almost automatically, to the outside of Sam’s thighs and gently rubbing against the denim. Sam began shifting under the touches, trying to get more, to _feel_ more of his brother. His hands slid down Dean’s ribcage and then stopped at the waistline of his jeans, only to ghost his fingertips up on the inside of Dean’s shirt, finally finding his hot, naked flesh. When his thumb made its way up Dean’s chest and rubbed across his nipple, Dean let out a breathy moan and pressed their bodies closer together.

Dean’s hands slowly trailed up and down Sam’s thighs, and by the way Sam was moving he seemed to want _more_ , so Dean continued to rub, slightly faster, this time over the insides of his thighs and up to his waist. For a moment his thumb brushed against Sam’s dick and Dean found it already desperately hard and straining underneath his jeans.

Sam broke their wet, messy kiss to let out a breathy “please, Dean…” They were impossibly close so when Sam threw his head back Dean gently kissed his Adam’s apple and the hot flesh around it. Dean couldn’t help but be gentle when it came to Sammy. But Sam still seemed to want more. Dean didn’t know how much more he could give. _Should_ give. There were still little red flags going up in his mind every time he crossed another boundary with his brother. But he couldn’t resist or pull away now even if he wanted to. All it took was Sam tugging at his shirt and one more “please” and they were moving onto the bed as one, Dean guiding Sam to lay flat on his back. Sam looked up at him through dark, shimmering eyes that reminded Dean of the stars they used to count as kids. Their eyes never left each other as Dean stripped out of his first layer, second layer, until he was left only in his t-shirt. When he came back down on top of Sam, their movements began to match as their lips sought each other out again, and collided, hot and messy. Sam strained to prop himself up and wriggle out of his shirt too, which was damp with sweat. Dean helped him out of his second shirt, a white tank top, and they came back together quickly. Sam let out a needy little moan as he pushed up, pressing their pelvises together, and Dean felt his dick pulse at the friction. Still something was holding him back, and he bit the insides of his cheeks in an impossible attempt to calm down, to come to his senses before he friggin’ exploded right then and there. But it was not going to work, because Sam obviously knew what he was trying and suddenly he was desperately fumbling at Dean’s belt, getting it open and then unfastening the button on his jeans and clumsily tearing down the zipper, reaching inside to rub his palm against Dean’s throbbing dick through the fabric of his boxers. Dean let out a strangled moan as his head dipped down over Sam’s, their sweat mingling together at their foreheads.

“Dean… I want you…” Sam let out between hastened breaths, his voice shaky. Dean leaned down and kissed his mouth again, staying there for a moment, enjoying the sweetness and the humidity. But Sam pulled back, barely able to keep his breathing at one constant pace.

“Please… I want you… inside me…”

And it was impossible that that’s what he said, but his words were like something physical, touching Dean all over his body, making him sweat more, grind his hip slightly over Sam’s groin. He didn’t know what to think of that. If Sam was in his right mind, would he still want that? Sam must have noticed the slightly confused, troubled expression on Dean’s face because he continued. “…please… need to feel you…”    

Dean slowly unfastened Sam’s belt and opened the front of his jeans. “Are you sure?”

Sam took his bottom lip into his mouth anxiously and stared up at Dean, and suddenly he looked _very_ aware. Dean could visibly see the need behind those puppy dog eyes of his, however influenced by hard alcohol they were (and at this moment they didn’t seem to be at all).

Sam propped himself up on his elbows while Dean slowly slid Sam’s pants down, their faces never leaving each other. The backs of Dean’s fingers trickled down Sam’s naked thighs as he brought the pants lower and then finally off and Sam kicked out of them eagerly. Dean stopped only a moment to massage Sam’s firm dick through his boxers, noticing that it was already damp down there from pre-come. Sam’s shallow breaths sped up and cut off when Dean reached the head of Sam’s dick and twirled his thumb around the sensitive tip. But then, slowly, Dean helped Sam out of his boxers too and when they were gone he rested above his brother’s naked body, and Sam reached his hands up to slide Dean’s shirt off. That was tossed aside, too, and Dean’s amulet hung between them like a gleaming golden ember.

For Dean, he couldn't prolong this long enough. But he had always been so in tune with his brother's feelings and right now he was practically begging for this, a hot and sweaty mess writhing underneath him, like a divine force of nature. And Sam's naked form, sweat making his skin glisten in the moonlight, was enough to send Dean over the edge with longing; longing to press into him, to make them become one, as they truly were meant to be, since before they were even born. Their breaths mingled as Sam reached up around the line of Dean's jeans and slid his fingers under, tugging them lower and pulling Dean against him, urging him.

Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of a train, but it was muffled and worlds away.

Even still, Dean protested, everything in his better judgement telling him this was wrong. He shouldn't be showing this kind of love to his little brother. "You don't want this, Sammy..." And his voice was strained and it hurt to let those words out, hurt so much, but Dean knew they needed to be said.

"Dean..." Sam breathed into his mouth, "yes I do."

And through the protesting shake of his head Sam kissed Dean and then found his hot cock and let it slide into his fist with a gentle push. When Sam caressed the length with soft fingers Dean knew he wouldn't last long. The pleasure building within him was too much. _No._ He never felt this much before, it was overloading, threatening to explode any minute, though he desperately wanted it to last forever.

Dean stroked a thumb gently over Sammy's wet bottom lip, slick with saliva, red and plump from the kisses and nibbles. He looked impossibly young, vulnerable.

And so finally, unable to contain the longing, Dean pulled away from Sam's gentle strokes and blindly tried to line up his dick, slick with pre-come, with Sam's entrance, their gazes still locked on each other. And slowly, very slowly, Dean pressed into Sam, and god, everything else in the _world_ suddenly disappeared, didn't matter, just didn't _exist_. Dean wanted to drink this feeling in forever. Sam's body was so warm and felt too good it almost ached, and sent shivers up and down the curve of his spine. When Dean bottomed out inside Sammy, Sam tossed his head back, exposing that perfect little beauty mark on the underside of his chin, and Dean kissed it, kissed his jaw, his ear...

Sam's long lashes caused beautiful fluttering shadows to dance upon his cheeks, flushed with arousal. And it was a look Dean had never before seen on his brother's face, yet seemed like he'd been waiting all of his life for. Sammy panting underneath him, clutching at the skin at his back… _He was moving inside Sam_... That was the thought that kept entering his mind with every thrust. _They were one._ And actually, nothing in the world, in Dean's life up until this point, ever felt so _right_. He was almost amazed at how natural it felt, like maybe they'd done this a thousand times before, in previous lives. Something just seemed to _click_. Dean rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting inside of Sam more and more. When Sam's breathing picked up, Dean increased the speed. Oh god, Sammy felt so good...

And Sam couldn't help the choked moans and whimpers that escaped his mouth. Having his brother up inside him, pressing against _that_ spot every now and again, was overwhelming. He could feel the pleasure building, threatening to consume his entire body. And then Dean was feeling him with his hands, all over, and Sam swore each finger was charged with electricity because his body moved up into the touches, and his breathing was impossibly rapid.

Dean explored every inch of his brother's body as he moved inside him, caressing across his hard nipples and then slowly over each of his ribs, and finally down to his hips and by now he was thrusting harder and deeper, and Sam was arching his back and breathing hot and heavy. Dean pressed on Sam's stomach with each of his thumbs, holding him in place, and he could almost feel the steady rhythm his cock was beating out inside of Sam, underneath the tender flesh.

“Oh god… Dean…” Sam uttered in between pants, shifting his body so that Dean was hitting just the right spot every time, and suddenly he had both arms loosely around Dean’s neck and was thrusting into each movement hard and constant.

And Dean kissed his neck and took the soft flesh into his mouth for a second, tasting the sweet sweat that had gathered there (and everywhere), and then let his mouth hover over it, breathing into him.

“I can’t… I’m gonna…” and now Sam’s eyes were shut tight, and Dean could feel the pleasure building between both of them, because they were both one, and they were completing each other wholly.

“Sam…” Dean moaned, very faint, almost indistinguishable as he licked a wet stripe up Sam’s Adam’s apple. And then he reached down because he knew what was coming – they were both about to go over the edge – and circled his palm around Sam’s throbbing dick, and pumped it almost as though it were an extension of himself, as though Sam was an extension of himself, and suddenly the world was spinning and they were swimming in a river of ecstasy.  Dean could feel Sam’s hole contracting and spasming around his cock at the same time that he himself was pushing out warm, wet release. Sam’s cock emptied into Dean’s hand and dappled the crevices of his chest and stomach with creamy white flecks.

They pumped out the last of their orgasm, trying to steady their breaths. Sam’s mouth hung open and his hands slid into Dean’s hair at the nape of his neck. Dean leaned in and pressed a delicate, lingering kiss against Sam’s quivering lips.

And slowly, Dean pulled out of Sam, separating them at last, their energy splitting into two again.

Dean only realized now that in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pants.

Sam seemed reluctant for them to part, not releasing his grip from around Dean’s neck. His chest rose and fell, slowing down significantly now, and Dean fingered over the little pools of white with his thumb. “God, Sammy, you’re so beautiful…” he wasn’t even sure where that came from, and as quiet as it was, it still sounded awkward coming out of his mouth. Sam, however, smiled and bit his bottom lip.

“Thank you.” His words were so delicate, they seemed to hang in the air like crystal, and as Dean lowered himself to touch noses with his brother one last time, he knew that he didn’t only mean for the compliment he just paid him. He meant for being with him, for giving him what he wanted, what he _needed_. What they _both_ needed.


End file.
